


Purpose.

by ectothermal



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Face Slapping, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 20:11:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4974820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectothermal/pseuds/ectothermal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spanking, and other hijinks</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purpose.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this moment:
> 
> Arin: "Next time on Game Grumps, I will actually slap Dan, and remind him of his PURPOSE."  
> Dan, quietly: "That actually does sound like fun…"  
> [...]  
> Dan: "What were you thinking of slapping, my—my. My facial region, or like. My buttcheeks?"  
> Arin: "It's not up to you. And I don't want to get you excited for either."  
> — Link To The Past #30

"So..." Dan starts, paused in the middle of shutting down the Grump room for the night; he draws out the word the way he does when he's not sure how to say what he wants to say, but trails off as he glances sideways at Arin. Arin barely looks up from double-checking their time notations for the episodes, but he hums, a quiet gesture to tell Dan to continue, that he's listening. "Um. About that slapping thing. Did you—were you, like—I mean. Was that serious, or..?"

Arin sits back from his notes, lifting his attention to the man on the couch beside him. He watches Dan push his hair back off of his face, shaking the mane out bigger than it started as he detangles his fingers from the mass of it. It's not exactly a nervous habit—Dan always has his fingers in his hair—but more of a grounding one, something that keeps him present and reminds him that he's real.

"Did you want it to be?" Arin asks, slowly, placing his notebook out of the way on the table behind the couch.

"Yeah, I'm down," says Dan, a little too quick on the jump, and he laughs at himself and his over-eagerness; his high-pitched giggle is infectious, and it drags Arin's chuckle from his chest with ease. He draws himself up, straightening his back and planting his feet wide apart on the floor.

"Yeah, alright, fuck it. C'mere." Arin leans his forearms on his knees, pointing at the space between his feet on the ground. Dan's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and for a moment Arin prepares to shift gears; but his expression is less 'this is too much and I'm panicking' than it is 'Christmas came early', and Arin relaxes into his posture.

"Jesus, right now? Okay." Dan slips off the couch, ducking under the boom of his mic stand to settle on his knees in front of Arin. He has to tip his head back to look at his friend now, but the position is comfortable and familiar; they share a fond smile as Arin's fingers slide into the back of Dan's hair.

"Good boy," he says, tugging gently on the hair at the nape of Dan's neck. He runs his thumb over Dan's lips, across his cheekbone. "Do you remember the system?"

"Red for stop, yellow for pause." Dan knows the rule by heart, could recite it in his sleep or suspended upside down in a tank of water, but Arin wants to hear it every time, wants Dan to know that the option is there in every scene, every time he goes under. Arin takes a moment to pet his cheek, eyes soft and half-lidded with affection, and Dan nuzzles into his palm, unable to resist pressing a soft kiss to the heel. Arin's fingers still, resting in the hollow between Dan's cheekbone and jaw for an excruciating few seconds of anticipation. Dan's breath catches in his throat, waiting to be forced out.

The slap comes quickly, a sharp snap of Arin's wrist leaving Dan's skin stinging and red. The smack is loud in the relative quiet of the room, with none of their equipment humming to muffle the noise; the sound mingles with a sharp involuntary noise yanked from Dan's throat. Arin watches his headspace change in an instant, shoulders dropping forward and eyes lowered to the ground.

"Look at me," Arin murmurs, pulling Dan's head back by his hair. "Still with me?" Dan focuses on Arin after a moment, his dark eyes hooded and his mouth slack; the open expression stokes the flame building in Arin's belly. He lays in another smack, watching the stark white imprints from his fingers flush with pink, listening for the keen of Dan's voice.

"You're doing so good," he says. "One more for me?" Dan presses his cheek into Arin's palm in response, murmuring a soft 'uh-huh.' This time, Arin can see tiny dots of red push up along Dan's cheek, his telltale sign not to push any further; the face is sensitive, and he doesn't want to risk causing real damage.

He leans down to kiss Dan, the hand in his hair tipping his head for the right angle, and reaches with his other hand to loosen Dan's belt. He tugs the button of his jeans open, laughing as he pulls back at the way Dan's knees slide apart along the carpet on instinct, how his hips lift up into his hand, hoping for a little bit of friction. Arin settles back into the couch, detangling his hand from the mess of Dan's hair and patting his thigh. "C'mon up," he says.

Dan clambers into his lap, clumsy in his lanky body and even more so from his enthusiasm. Arin can't help but laugh as Dan settles belly-down across his thighs, his enormous tennis shoes hanging over the arm of the couch.

"What's so funny?" Dan whines, his voice muffled by the couch cushion; Arin shakes his head, still giggling as his hands curl around Dan's slender waist and into the waistband of his jeans.

"You," he says, tugging Dan's pants and underwear down his thighs. "You're just so cute. I just wanna pinch your cheeks," he continues, lilting up into a silly grandma voice as he pinches Dan's butt. Dan bursts into laughter, wrapping his arms around his head as his face turns red, and Arin laughs too, shaking his head and keeping hold of Dan's body to keep him from falling off of his lap.

"So dumb," Dan giggles into his shoulder. "I can't take you seriously like this."

"Shut up, dude," Arin says, attempting to stifle his laughter. "Do you want me to smack your butt or not?"

"Just fuckin' do it, dude, like, my face is where my ass normally goes right now and lemme tell you, it is not ideal." Arin quiets his giggles, finally, and slides his hand over the soft skin of Dan's ass; he can feel his dick twitch in interest against his thigh as his breath hitches, and that's all he needs to get back into it, to find the heat in his belly again.

He starts easy, with light smacks on the round of his ass to get him used to the feeling, to the sting of it; his fingers dig into Dan's waist, the fabric of his shirt bunching around his knuckles, as Dan squirms and whines. Gradually, Arin lays in heavier slaps, moving down from the round flesh to the tender sit spot underneath until Dan's whimpering, his eyes watering and his skin angry red. Arin's fingers are tingling from the repeated impact as he grabs a handful of his best friend's ass and squeezes - the skin is hot underneath his fingertips, and Dan's cock is hard and leaking against his leg, precum slowly seeping into the fabric of his sweatpants.

"Do you wanna cum?" he asks. Dan nods eagerly, his hips rocking into Arin's lap. "Do you want me to make you cum?"

"That," says Dan, pausing either to gather himself or for dramatic effect—Arin's not quite sure which, "is a stupid-ass question."

"I'm _trying_ to be sexy, dude!"

"You know what's sexy, Arin? Doing sex things," says Dan, pointedly, but the salt is lost in the laughter springing up from the both of them again. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't wanna break it to you like this."

"I'm getting there!" Arin laughs, feigning indignance even as he sucks his fingers into his mouth to wet them. "You ready?" he asks as he brings his dripping fingers back to Dan's ass, waiting for Dan's mumbled _'yeah, c'mon'_ before starting to work a finger inside of him. He takes it slow, teasing, slowly rocking his finger until he's down to the knuckle; he pauses there, listening to the change in Dan's breathing, how it's heavier but more shallow, just lifting his ribcage while his tummy tightens under Arin's fingertips. He pulls back to work another finger in, the same as before, slow and steady until he's knuckle-deep again. He curls his fingers down to find that sweet spot, and Dan practically mewls in his lap, hips twitching both into and away from the new stimulation. Arin keeps it steady, keeping the slow rock of his fingers.

"You want more?" he asks. Dan whines his response. "Fuck yourself on my fingers and you can cum," says Arin, moving his hand from Dan's waist in favor of curling his fist into his hair again to give him leeway to move. "C'mon, I've got you."

Dan fumbles to build up a rhythm, spreading his knees as much as he can with his jeans wrapped around his thighs to brace them against the arm of the couch, but soon the sloppy rock of his hips turns into a practiced roll, every push back sliding Arin's fingers against his prostate and every pull forward dragging his cock along the soft fabric of Arin's sweatpants. Arin watches the gleam of sweat on Dan's skin that highlights the dip of his back, the light curve of his ass. "So pretty," he murmurs under the sound of deep moans catching in Dan's throat, his fingers tightening in his hair.

"Arin," Dan whines. His knuckles are white around the edge of the couch cushion, his stomach and thighs shaking as his movements become more jerky, the rhythm more erratic. "Arin, can I?"

"Yeah, c'mon," Arin gives his permission, moving his fingers to match Dan's movements, now; it's not long before Dan is calling out Arin's name as he spills onto his thigh, his whole body tensing through his orgasm before he relaxes into Arin's lap.

Dan is still breathing hard when Arin pulls his fingers away, brushing them on his sweats—he'd have to wash them anyway, whatever—before gently rubbing up and down Dan's back. He loosens his grip on Dan's hair, opting instead to push it away from his face. "How ya doin', buddy?"

"M'golden, man," Dan smiles, breathless. "Thanks." Arin smiles down at him as a realization seems to cross his face. "Oh, dude, you want me to—?" he asks, cutting himself short as he gropes for Arin's lap behind him, eager to reciprocate but unwilling to move to accomplish his goal.

"Don't worry about it," says Arin. "You can get me back later if you want."

"M'kay," Dan says, pushing himself up after another moment to put himself back together, and he humors Arin as he takes his chin in his hand and turns his face to check the bruise. "What was that purpose you were gonna remind me of, anyway?"

"Uhhh, you mean being my sweet butt slut?" Arin jokes, assuming his grandma voice from earlier, reaching around to pinch Dan again through his jeans. Dan's head drops forward, his hair falling and hiding his face as he laughs.

"So _dumb_."


End file.
